Reason I Love My Husband No. 67 (fly)

Our chocolate labrador Scout has been going nuts tonight over a fly who’s stuck in our house. All our window are tarped up because the house is primed and waiting to be painted, so we can’t raise even an inch of a window to let the bugger out. (In case you’re wondering, last week’s 40 mph wind storm sounded like this: FLAP FLAP FLAP FLAP FLAP.) So anyway, Scout is stalking the living room, staring trance-like at walls for quarter-hours at a time, snapping at this damn fly whenever s/he dares make his/her next move. (Do flies merit non-sexist pronouns?)

Mr. R [slamming the Bungle of Joy’s play tent with a couch pillow]: Damn, that bugger’s fast.

Me [typing, a bit distracted, giggling]

Mr. R [in a John Wayne voice]: OK, one of us is a slow learner here. [Stands] I’m really gonna get ‘im this time. [Walking toward the window and pushing the dog aside with the couch pillow] Get outta the way, Scout. I mean business.

FLING!

Mr. R: Oh, wow, I think I got him. [Bending down to pick up the pillow, looking for fly corpse] Jeez…if I got him with that shot, it’s a really low blow.

Me [looking up from my Mac]: How’s that?

Mr. R: I threw a pillow at him and I think I got him. But that’s really unsporting. [Settling back on the couch] You let me know if he comes back.

Me: You talking to me or Scout?

Mr. R: Scout. [Looking at the dog who is standing again at the ready] Scout doesn’t understand how I could have hit that fly from so far away.

Me: I don’t either.

Mr. R: Ahh, we’ve got a bunch of non-believers here. [Pulling his laptop confidently onto his lap] I see how this is gonna be.

[A few minutes later, the fly returns, buzzing louder than ever.]

Mr. R: Er, maybe Scout should go downstairs.

Me [starry-eyed]: Sighhhh…

Mr. R: What?

Me [in a starry-eyed sighing voice]: I love you.

[laughter]

Mr. R: I love you too.

[pause]

Mr. R: Now where’s that damn fly?

Happily even after,janna
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